Hand of Sorrow
by VamptasticVeronica
Summary: The childhood of Jace Wayland. From his birth to his father's death. Warning, City of Glass spoilers!
1. Our Solemn Hour

**Summary: The story of Jace's childhood. From his birth to leaving Idris after his father's death, follow Jonathan's journey through an abusive adolescence. **

**Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare and I don't own the Mortal Instruments series**

**Warning: Do NOT read if you haven't read City of Glass, it has major spoilers**

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**Chapter One: Our Solemn Hour**

Céline Herondale's mind was involved with a book, as she sipped on the tea with the potions Valentine had given her for her baby. She was eight months pregnant and she was anxiously waiting for the day her baby would come. She hoped it would be a boy, who looked like his father. She wondered what she would name her child. Her mind slipped away from the book as she started to imagine life in the future.

Céline could see her child grow up to be a strong Shadowhunter being taught by his, assuming the baby was a boy, father, Stephen. Stephen would be so happy, love etched in his eyes as he gazed upon both of them. Her son would play and grow up with Jonathan Morgenstern and Alec Lightwood as if they were his siblings. Days would past, as she would hope for another child for –

A knock on the door, broke her from her dreams of the future. She wondered who would be knocking so late at night, knowing Stephen wouldn't have to knock. It was Valentine, who looked solemn and gray as if he were about to give bad news.

Céline's heart caught in her throat hoping that it had nothing to do with Stephen.

"Stephen and I went to exterminate vampires, however there were too many for us to fight. Stephen was killed. I can only –" Valentine began.

Céline just shook her head in disbelief. _He can't be gone_, she thought. She choked backed the hysteric sobs, but they broke free as she stumbled forever and wrapped her arms around Valentine.

"No, no, please," she cried. Valentine didn't hug her back, he just stood there stiff. Céline let go, and looked down at her growing stomach. Suddenly it felt as if nothing mattered anymore, life couldn't go on without Stephen. Not even the life of her child.

"It's heartbreaking to me as well. Stephan was my best friend." Valentine said, and then he walked out of her home, closing the door behind him. She watched him leave; her golden eyes shine with fresh tears. Céline crumpled to the floor, and wept until no more tears would come.

She stood up and walked to the kitchen, half stumbling in her haste, finding one of her sharpest knives. She took a deep breath before she looked back down at her unborn child. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, positioning the knife to her wrist.

In two quick movements, Céline slit both of her wrists and fell to the ground. Blood gushed from her wounds, forming a red thick puddle of blood around her dead body.

-

Valentine walked away, knowing that he had lied. Yes, it was true that Stephan was dead, but Valentine wasn't heartbroken. Stephan was just a loyal follower like everyone else. His life meant nothing to him; his attention was consumed by Stephan's pregnant wife that he could do more experiments on.

Valentine was worried about how much his news had affected Céline. Surely all the stress and grieving wouldn't harm the baby though.

He walked back over towards his carriage, where another follower, Hodge was waiting.

"Go check on Céline, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," Valentine ordered. There was no sympathy in his tone, just the stern voice of a dictator. Hodge quickly nodded.

"Yes, my Lord." Hodge walked briskly back to the house, knocked once and waited. He knocked again, and still no one answered. Valentine glared, and made a beeline straight for the door. He tried to change his expression to one softer, knowing that if Céline answered she would be insulted.

"Céline?" Valentine called. Still there was no response. The door was unlocked and he walked into the house. "Céline?" he called again.

Hodge followed him like a shadow, looking around for the pregnant widow.

"Go look for her in the kitchen, I'll check the bedrooms," Valentine ordered walking in the opposite direction of the uncovered body. Hodge grumbled something, too low for Valentine to hear.

Valentine looked and noticed a half cup of tea and a closed book by her bed. He wondered if she had run away, with his perfect warrior in her womb. Valentine angered, backhanded the cup, it shattering onto the floor in bits and pieces, each jagged shard lying in the brown liquid.

"She's dead, my Lord."

Hodge was standing behind him in the doorway, staring at his furious expression. Valentine felt rage towards the woman, and went to her body in the kitchen immediately, shoving Hodge out of his way.

There she was, lying in a puddle of her own blood. Céline had one hand on the knife she used to kill herself and the other was resting upon her stomach. She was dead, that much was certain.

Valentine was enraged. After so many months of giving Céline's child Ithuriel's blood, hoping it would be strong and powerful, as his son not having Jonathan's worse qualities, the woman ruined everything by taking her life. Maybe it wasn't too late.

He swiftly plucked the knife from her hand and began to lift up her shirt, revealing the bulging stomach that held his angel child.

"My Lord, what are you doing?" Hodge was there, staring at him in unfathomable shock. Valentine turned to smile at Hodge, a perfect poker face.

"There is time to save the child. Shadowhunters are a dying breed and we don't want a new one to go to waste because its mother was suicidal." Valentine said. His words were calm and persuasive. Hodge was entranced by his charm, knowing that stealing a baby from its mother's womb was right.

Hodge nodded as Valentine made an incision along the base of her stomach. Dropping the knife, Valentine thrust his hands into the cut he had made searching for the baby. He smiled as he found the shape of the child and protectively took it out of the mother, making sure it felt no harm.

Hodge had retrieved some towels for Valentine to clean the child off. Valentine holding the baby in one arm wiped away Céline's blood away from the child in adoration. The baby was a boy, an even better warrior.

"Jonathan, my son," Valentine crooned.

"What are you going to do with him, my Lord? How would you explain another child, when Jocelyn showed no signs of pregnancy?" Hodge asked, breaking Valentine's absorption.

Valentine gave an irritable sigh. "You will have to take him. Take him to your childhood home near Lake Lyn. Keep him there and look after him, until I come back. I won't be away long, my boy." It took Hodge a moment to realize that Valentine's last statement was directed towards the baby.

Reluctantly Valentine handed over Jonathan to Hodge. Then he stalked out the front door.

"As you wish, my Lord," Hodge said, looking down at the angelic boy in his arms.

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A/N: Well I hoped you liked the first chapter. Maybe you could tell me about it? I'd like to give a special thanks to Aubrey who edited my fanfiction since I'm not qualified for a beta so she rocks! Also if you know where my titles come from, you will get a shoutout in the next chapter :D

-VamptasticVeronica

ps. Reviews are great, so please review


	2. The Howling

**Disclaimer: My name is Veronica...not Cassandra...not Mrs. Jace Wayland...yet ;]**

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**Chapter Two: The Howling **

The following week was the day of the Accords. Valentine had not seen his newfound son since he handed him over to Hodge. He was still getting prepared for the Clave's surrender and taking care of his real demon son.

Valentine loved his real son; however there was something about Stephan's son that captivated him. He would see him tonight, he promised to himself.

Leaving the manor house, Valentine gave a quick nod towards Jocelyn's mother. She was holding their child in her arms, with loving affection. Jocelyn turned around leaned to kiss her son. Valentine smiled, knowing that the angel potion had finally taken affect on Jocelyn's love for her child. And she smiled too.

Valentine took a hold his wife's hand and led her to their carriage they would use to go to Alicante. The sun's bright ray, shined brilliantly, casting a beautiful glow on Jocelyn's face. Valentine wondered if the angel blood was making her more beautiful. Just like the baby he saved.

He tried not to think about Jonathan Herondale, but lately his thoughts seemed to swarm around him.

Valentine looked at Jocelyn, the dazzling sunlight made her hair glow like red fire, her face was perfect in every way, and her lips looked delicate and soft. She turned catching him staring at her.

Valentine just smiled and whispered, "I love you."

Jocelyn just smiled and said nothing.

-

Hodge groaned as the baby cried for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had no sleep for the past week. Every time he would have a chance at a nice doze, the cry from the other room woke him up.

Jonathan was a beautiful baby, looked as if he came from angels. However he didn't act like it. He would cry and cry, and Hodge, never been a parent, had no idea what he wanted.

"Shh, quite child," he scolded as he rocked the boy in his arms. For a split second, Hodge thought the child was glaring at him, as if he knew what he had done to his mother.

Guilt had washed threw Hodge, but he didn't know why he felt guilty. His mother had killed herself and his father was murdered by vampires. Hodge saved the boy's life, helped continue the Shadowhunter race with a new generation.

His thoughts seemed to mirror Valentine's.

At last the cries had subsided and the boy was asleep. _Lucky child_, Hodge thought envying him for he could get sleep. Hodge gently laid the boy in his crib that Hodge had when he was a baby. He was surprised that his parents had even kept it.

Grateful for the silence, Hodge went his bed hoping to get the awaited sleep he had been craving. Just as he head hit the pillow, a booming knock woke him and the baby began to cry again.

With an angry sigh, Hodge went to answer the door. It was Valentine. He was covered in blood and ash. "My Lord, what on earth happened?" Hodge asked remembering that today was the day of the Accords.

"Jocelyn betrayed me! She and that monster plotted against me!" He shouted, his eyes flamed with anger. "They brought an army of filthy Downworlders, and the Circle was down in seconds. The Lightwoods surrendered, Wayland sided with the monsters, and then escaped and I knew I had to kill him, Pangborn and Blackwell also escaped. Everyone else is dead." Valentine looked as if he was ready to kill. Maybe he already had.

"Why'd you kill Michael?" Hodge asked, wondering why he would kill an innocent man.

Valentine glared, "It is the only way I can live. If they think I'm dead, and he's not, I can go leaving my life. So I burned him and his son along with the bitch's parents." Hodge had never seen Valentine so livid before. Valentine was angry at Céline but the reason was unknown to Hodge but even then he wasn't nearly as furious as he was now.

Valentine's words were finally sinking in. He had killed Michael Wayland, and his innocent boy to use their identities. He had also killed Jocelyn's parents for revenge for all she had done.

Hodge, for the first time, felt fear.

"Now where is my son?" He asked calmly. Hodge noticed that the crying had stopped and just stood there dumbfounded. "Where is my son?!" Valentine shouted, his rage increasing. The baby's cry started again.

Valentine pushed Hodge away and went to retrieve to boy. As soon as the boy was in Valentine's arms, the crying had slowly started to dwindle, along with his anger. "There, there. Shh, your father's got you. Jonathan Wayland, what a suiting name." Hodge had followed him.

"My Lord, what do you expect me to do? The Lightwoods, they'll say that I was in the Circle and then they'll come for me. I'll be put to death." Hodge was frantic, knowing of his future.

Valentine's voice was cold and stern, "Turn yourself in. They won't kill you if you do. What can they do? Valentine Morgenstern is dead. I'm Michael Wayland. I got out of the Circle before the Uprising."

"B-but –"

"Hodge, you'll do as I say. That is an order. When the time comes, I will resolve you of your punishment."

With a heavy sigh, Hodge replied. "As you wish."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take my son to our home at the Wayland estate," said Valentine, still holding the boy who was sound asleep.

The two men left Hodge's childhood home. Hodge left for Alicante to turn himself in to Clave, as Valentine ordered. Valentine, with Jonathan in his arms, left for the Wayland country home where he would raise the boy as Jonathan Wayland and himself as Michael Wayland, the two innocent people he had murdered.

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**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. Everyone who reviewed is AMAZING! You know who else is amazing? Aubrey, cause she also edited this chapter. Speaking of chapters, I won't be able to post another one until Friday or Saturday because I will be attending a FFA Convention for the rest of the week :| The first half of the chapter is done and is in the hands of Aubrey, but the rest of it, shall be written asap. Leave reviews, they make my heart shine. Hope you liked this chapter and please PLEASE leave a review... or Valentine will come kill you in your sleep :D **

**-VamptasticVeronica**


	3. Deceiver of Fools

**Chapter Three: Deceiver of Fools**

One year later…

Jonathan Wayland's first birthday was here, and Valentine couldn't give him what he wanted, since he was too young to talk. The only word he could say was father. Valentine remembered when he first said that word; he felt so proud that day.

Two months ago, the servant was feeding Jonathan mushy baby food. It had been a relief to Valentine that he had finally gotten off his milk diet. Fake protein milk was hard to come by, since women in Idris mostly breast fed their young and there was no need for replacements.

Jonathan was happily eating when he saw Valentine pass by. "Potder," he said, knocking the baby spoon out of the servant's hand, splattering soupy, green slush all over the floor.

Valentine smiled, knowing that his boy meant father. The other Jonathan, though almost a year older, still couldn't speak, or didn't want to. The thought of the other Jonathan slightly brought down his cheerful mood.

Though his real child looked so much like him, demon blood still coursed through his veins. He was destructive, even as a baby. Valentine had always loathed demons. Just the thought of them made him want to destroy something. Demons were the spawns from hell and they were against God. Valentine was very religious, yet he would do anything to make the world pure, even if that involved going against God to retrieve demon blood for his son to become a warrior in an upcoming war.

Valentine would always despise demons. He'd also despise the demon part of his son. If Jonathan were to turn evil, he'd be forced into loathing his own son.

Jonathan Wayland had been the complete opposite, like the angel whose blood was in him. He was soft and happy, a captivating air almost emanating from him. Valentine knew that when he got older, he would have to whip him into shape if he wanted him to be his warrior. If he let Jonathan go on like he was now, he would be pathetic. A loving fool, and he would get hurt.

A sharp pain shot through Valentine. He had been a loving fool once. He had only loved Jocelyn, his beautiful Jocelyn. But she nearly killed him… love and betrayal was the worst weapon anyone could use. Trust was also something you had to be cautious about and Valentine was willing to do anything so that both of his sons would know that.

Jocelyn had lived, and took the Mortal Cup with her. Valentine knew it, and when he needed the Cup, he would find her. At the moment, Valentine had no desire for the Cup. He had two soldiers to raise, two sons to bring up in his likeness.

The night of the Accords, after he had taken Jonathan Wayland to the Wayland estate along with Jonathan Morgenstern, he had to come up with a plan. He knew he couldn't have both the boys in the same house hold. Michael Wayland only had one son therefore, only one son could stay at the manor. Also the real Jonathan would most likely harm his adoptive Jonathan out of jealously, a common demonic trait.

He had relocated his real son to Hodge's childhood home by a lake – knowing that no one would ever go there since Hodge was in exile – where Valentine would spend half of his time. He would spend time with his angel boy and his demon boy, dividing his attention and his teachings among them.

Valentine had already begun to put his plan into motion. One year had passed and his adoptive Jonathan could walk and was on his way to learning how to talk, one word at a time.. The real Jonathan was more agile when he walked and Valentine knew he could understand him, but he didn't speak a word.

As much as Valentine tried, his son wouldn't ever speak to him. He would never make any noise: never cry, never talk. Only stare. Valentine assumed that it was the demon blood that caused him to be so disobedient. He worried that he would never have the patience or the compassion to follow him. The boy was a monster.

Valentine wanted to have both of them as his soldiers, but a part of him would still rather spend his time with his loving angel then the demon child of his. He felt remorseful that he treated the adoptive better than the one he helped create.

With Jocelyn. Perhaps that was the reason, he was resentful to his blood son. Not because he had demon blood, not because the other angel boy was more pleasant to be around, but because he had Jocelyn's blood.

Jonathan Wayland, who was sitting on the floor watching his father with curious eyes, began to crawl over to him. He used the side table to help him stand as he tried with much effort to get onto the couch where his father sat gazing out the window, his attention absorbed in his theorization.

Valentine glanced down at the boy, who pulled his thoughts away from his ex wife and their child. "Happy Birthday, Jonathan," said Valentine, helping the boy up onto his lap.

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**A/N: As promised, you got chapter three by Saturday. Want the next chapter? Leave reviews, they make me write faster. Well not really, but they do make me feel inspired to write. If you leave a review, you will be put in the shout out section of my fanfiction :D**

**Shout Outs to AWESOME PEOPLE…**

_**Aubrey**_ for being awesome! She's my editor and I'm eternally grateful to her.

**_burningimpossiblybright_** [fanfiction won't put the x's and dots in your name for some reason] for being the first to leave a review for the past few chapters! Thank you so much.

**_Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein_** for finding out where my titles come from. [Within Temptation songs for those who don't know] and for leaving the longest reviews! I love them.

_**My Mom**_ for telling random people about my fanfiction even though she has no idea what fanfiction is.


	4. Somewhere

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments nor do I own Hansel and Gretel**

**Clearing up confusion: Michael=Valentine | Jonathan=Jace  
**

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**Chapter Four: ****Somewhere**

"Goodnight, my son," Michael whispered to Jonathan who was tucked tightly into bed. The three year old boy looked up at his father, wishing that he wouldn't leave him alone in the dark before he was asleep. To show fear was to show weakness, and Jonathan would never want his father to look down at him, so he dealt with the terror of the dark.

Just as his father was about to leave, Jonathan panicked. "Will you tell me a bedtime story, father?" he asked quickly. He had enjoyed listening to his father's tales, although some left him with nightmares that he tried to conceal.

"It's time for bed, Jonathan," he said sternly, a harsh cold tone.

"Please," Jonathan squeaked. One sad wounded look from the toddler and his father's hard set face softened. A smile played on the edge of his lips, something Jonathan only got to see on occasion.

"Fine. One story, and then you'll go to bed," he ordered. Jonathan just nodded as his father took a seat in the desk chair. He thought to himself for a moment, debating what story to tell before he began.

"Once upon a time…there was a poor Shadowhunter… who lived with his two children, Hansel and Gretel, and his second wife, who treated the children poorly. 'There isn't enough food in the house for us all. We must get rid of the two brats,' she declared. For days, she'd keep on trying to persuade her husband to abandon his children in the forest. 'Take them miles from home; so far that they can never find their way back!' she would say. The Shadowhunter didn't know what to do. He wanted to please his wife but he couldn't bear the thought of abandoning his children."

Jonathan listened curiously, puzzled as to why his father's eyes were so distant.

"One day the children overheard their stepmother's orders. Gretel was scared but Hansel assured her not to worry, for he had a plan. He went out and retrieved small white pebbles from the garden, keeping them safe in his pocket.

"Finally, after so many nagging requests, the Shadowhunter decided to lead Hansel and Gretel into the forest. As they walked, Hansel dropped a little white pebble here and there so that they could find their way back home. Once their father had deserted them–"

"How could the father abandon his children like that? Did he not care at all?" Jonathan interrupted, shocked by the sudden turn in the story. Surely a father wouldn't do that in real life? Would he?

"He wanted to please his wife," his father said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Now don't interrupt me." The boy murmured apologizes but his father was already continuing where he had left off.

"Once their father had deserted them and did not return, Gretel wept. Hansel, too, felt scared but he tried to hide his feelings and comfort his sister. 'Don't cry, trust me! I swear I'll take you home, even if Father doesn't come back for us!' he assured her. 'Now give me your hand! We'll get home safely, you'll see!' The tiny white pebbles gleamed in the moonlight, and the children found their way home.

"The following day, when their stepmother found Hansel and Gretel, she was furious. She locked the children up in their rooms and gave them nothing for dinner but water and stale bread. Though the Shadowhunter protested, he was torn between shame and fear of disobeying his cruel wife and, therefore, hushed into silence. When night came, he once again, led the children out into the forest.

"Hansel had not eaten his bread. Instead, he crumbled it into small pieces, leaving a trail of crumbs behind him to mark the way. However the boy had forgotten about the birds that lived in the forest. The birds ate the crumbs, leaving behind no trail. It was far too late once he realized the trail was gone. He was left stranded in the woods with his sister, their father already disappeared into the cluster of trees.

"Frightened by the shadows and evil eyes around them in the darkness, the two stayed wide awake and alert in fear. As night faded into day, they began to wander and almost instantly became lost. That is, until they saw a cottage. It wasn't just any cottage, though. It was made of sweets. The walls were made from gingerbread, the windows were made from icing, and even the flowers were lollipops. Starving, the children began to eat pieces of candy off the cottage. Perhaps it was because they hadn't eaten real food in a little over a day, but it was the best food they'd ever tasted.

"Just as they were about to eat more, a sweet old lady came out with a cheerful smile on her face. 'My! You children must be starving. Come in! Come in, you've nothing to fear!' she said. The children then became dizzy and blacked out. The candy and sweets were poisonous, and the old lady was a witch who fed on children. We they awoke, they were locked in cages. 'You're nothing but skin and bones! I shall fatten you up and eat you!'

"The witch was blind, as luck would have it. After days of feeding the children, they became plump and fat; it was time for the witch to cook them. 'The boy first,' she said making Gretel light the oven. When the witch bent down to peer inside the oven to check the heat, Gretel gave the nasty woman a push and slammed the oven door shut, cooking the witch alive. Gretel set her brother free and they made quite sure that the oven door was tightly shut behind the witch. 'The witch is now burnt to a cinder,' said Hansel, relieved that they had seen the last of her. They filled a large basket they had found with food, and set off into the forest in search for home. They found their home on the second day, along with a weeping father at the doorstep.

"'Your stepmother is dead. Come home with me now, my dear children! I'll never desert you again,' he said sweeping the children into his arms."

There was a long moment of silence when his father concluded the story. Questions about the witch, or what happen next, or what happened to the stepmother would have been normal. Jonathan's question wasn't.

"Why don't I have a mother?" he asked quietly, afraid to meet his father's cold eyes.

"Your mother- she's with the angels." His father replied. "Now, go to sleep Jonathan," he murmured before placing a single kiss on the boy's forehead and then walking swiftly from the room.

Jonathan just laid there, awake in the darkness. His mind raced with questions while he imaged what the answers would be. His thoughts were consumed with the woman he would never know.

Once sleep captured Jonathan, he found himself dreaming.

-

He was walking with his father in a forest. The vibrant trees hung in the air like arms waiting to grab him and pull him into the midnight darkness. 'Where are we going, father' he asked, staying close to his side.

His father didn't say anything but just looked ahead; his eyes were cold, angry. After walking endlessly in the dark for quite some time, his father turned to him, looking at him for the first time. 'I apologize, but you can't stay with me anymore.' Though the words were cold, they were said so formal, yet that didn't ease the pain they brought.

'W-What?' the boy stuttered. Then, his apprehensive tone changed to anger. 'No!'

His father glared. The next thing Jonathan saw was the grass, his body crumbling to the ground. Reaching up to touch his face, he saw with horror that his hand was red with blood from where his father had hit him. Biting back the tears, he whimpered, 'Why?'

'Deus volt,' was all he said before leaving the boy alone in the forest. The darkness absorbed him. He didn't know how long he laid there. Hours maybe. A bright light shined from behind a tree, illuminating the pitch black of night. At first, Jonathan thought that is was the sun, finally rising, but instead, it was the glow from a woman.

She was beautiful. Her golden eyes were watching him closely as his were watching her. But that was all that happened. She just watched him, sadness etched into her features as if it hurt her to see him wounded and alone. Just as he was going to ask her what she wanted, white feathered wings appeared behind her back. Then, she was gone.

-

When Jonathan awoke the next morning, the nightmare still ached in his memory like a fresh wound. He slipped out of his room, searching for his father to confirm that the dream was just that; a dream.

The house was unnaturally quiet, and he was abruptly startled by the servant that appeared in front of him so suddenly. "Excuse me. Do you know where my father is?" he asked.

"He's not here, but he left this for you," the servant said, handing Jonathan a white piece of paper with scrawled markings. He had to squint just to interpret the words:

_Gone to Alicante for a Clave meeting. I'll be back when I can. Behave yourself and listen to Ilene. –M.W. _

The words from the note finally sunk in, leaving Jonathan slightly breathless. His father was gone, and it seemed like his worst nightmare had came true.

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**A/N: So what do you think? Was it good? Was it bad? You should tell me by leaving reviews :D  
**

**Shout Outs To:**

**alicecullengirl, burningimpossiblybright, lolabug, Danceronpointe,** for leaving reviews. Thank you

**Aubrey** for being an amazing editor and for encouraging people to read my fanfic. You're awesome!


	5. Shattered

**Disclaimer: Cassie owns Jace and Valentine, but I own Ilene :D**

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**Chapter Five: Shattered**

Jonathan couldn't keep track of how many days it had been since he had last seen his father. It could have been weeks for all he knew.

Ever since the first time his father left him with Ilene, almost a year ago, he dreaded the moment when he would wake up and his father wouldn't be there. That first time, he had only been gone a week. One week seemed much longer to a three year old.

Jonathan was not three anymore. He had just turned four and if it wasn't for Ilene, he would have forgotten his own birthday. His birthday, without his father, would have been like any other day if he didn't have Ilene as his servant.

Ilene had gone to the trouble to bake a cake, and make him a gift.

"What's this," Jonathan asked holding the neatly wrapped package in his small hands.

"Open it," Ilene murmured, smiling.

Days after his birthday, Jonathan had managed to realize that his father wasn't coming home soon. Looking down at the small toy soldier, he began to admire Ilene's handwork. The features were so remarkable. Even the little sword, itself, had advanced patterns. Ilene must have worked really hard on it, and because of his bitter disposition, he didn't give the proper appreciation for it.

Walking out of his room, holding the wooden toy in his hand, he began to search for Ilene.

Over the past year, they had gotten close. Ilene would make his meals - oh, they were even better than the chef's food. Ilene would nurse him back to health when he was sick, though the medicine tasted bitter and he tried his best to avoid taking it. Ilene would also tutor him in his assigned work that his father left him.

Jonathan wondered if his father left him with Ilene so that she could teach him the fundamentals so when he came back, he would be easier to train as a Shadowhunter. That was just a theory that he hoped for. He wouldn't think about if his father never came back. The thought hurt too much.

If his father was there more, Jonathan wouldn't be close to Ilene at all. It was the only good thing that happened when he was away.

Whether his father was here or not, Jonathan still had nightmares. Some of which cause screams that would wake him up in the late hours. One in particular was one about being trapped in the darkness.

In the dream, Jonathan was locked in a room that was as dark as midnight. He couldn't even see his hand in front of him. Trying to suck it up, he dealt with the fear. It wasn't until he saw a crack on the roof that he realized it was light outside.

In his haste to find something to throw in order to bring the light in the room, he tripped over something. The creature moaned in protest, causing Jonathan to jump away in fright. He knew then he wasn't alone in the dark.

Once realization hit, the light flooded the room. Grisly, tortured creatures were crawling towards him and it only took a second for him to see that there was no door and that he was trapped.

His screams woke him. They also woke Ilene. Within moments, her comforting arms were around him as she whispered reassurances.

That was the first time Jonathan really connected with Ilene. And since then, though neither ever talked about it, they had grown to be close friends.

It was shouts coming from the library that pulled him from his thoughts. "Ilene?" Jonathan called out.

The shouts continued, followed by a deafening crash. The library door flung open, out running Ilene, her hand to her bleeding face.

"Ilene!" Jonathan cried, running to her side. But Ilene wouldn't look at him. She just sobbed and pushed past him.

Just as he was about to follow her, he heard his name called from the room. Without the muffling of the door, he finally knew who was in the library with Ilene. The person was his father.

Jonathan didn't know whether to run to his father and cling to him for dear life or to not go in the room at all. Ilene needed comfort, but he wasn't going to disobey his father's orders.

Nervously, he walked into the room, carefully slipping Ilene's present in his pocket. A few specks of blood on the carpet floor were beside a broken vase. Standing next to the grand piano, sipping on a glass of wine, was his father looking as stern as ever.

"Father?" Jonathan asked. "Y-you're home."

Instead of replying, his father continued his drink until there was nothing left. Tightly he twisted his figures around the thin glass, and threw it against the wall.

Jonathan jumped back, staring at his father incredulously. "W-why did you?" He wasn't asking about the glass, he was asking about what happened to Ilene. But his father continued to ignore him before pacing back and forth across the room as if he were looking for something.

"Where is it," his father exclaimed, suddenly furious.

Jonathan rushed over to his father's side, in hopes to aid him. Though the fear was still relevant in his mind, his father needed help. "Father, what are you looking for? Maybe I can help-"

The blow caused Jonathan to fall back onto the jagged shards from the broken glass, cutting deep into his skin. Before he could whimper a sign of pain, his father shouted loudly, "I do not need help, Jonathan. I know what I am doing!"

Jonathan couldn't look at him, which only added to his father's fury. Yet he didn't hit the boy again. Instead, he knocked a whole shelve of books onto the floor in the midst of his anger.

Catching his breath, his father tried to calm down. That is, until he saw a small wooden toy on the ground beside Jonathan's wounded figure.

"What is this?" His father spat, picking up the toy.

Jonathan didn't answer, just looked away, betrayal still etched on his face. His father wasn't having any of that. He reached over and picked his son up by the front of his shirt.

"Answer me when I ask you a question," he didn't yell it. He spoke the words calmly which only added to the fear they brought on.

Jonathan spoke softly, "Yes father. It was a gift from Ilene." He didn't have time to protest when his father picked up the small Shadowhunter in his newly freed hand and crushed it without a second thought.

His father stood up, wiping his hands on his suit, looking calm at last. "My boy, you do not need little things like that. Unimportant trinkets suck as this are a distraction from your true proposes, like learning and becoming the best future warrior you can be. Plus, you don't want something from a thief."

Jonathan exclaimed, "Ilene is not a thief!"

Jonathan soon regretted his words as another blow from his father's hand swept across his face.

"I go away for a few months, leaving you with her," he spat the word as if it were a curse word. "And you think it is alright to talk back to me. Well Son, a few changes are going to happen around here." A slight grin appeared, and he shouted, "Excuse me, could I get some help around here?"

Within seconds a scrawny man appeared at the doorway. "Yes, Master Wayland. What is it you need?" Jonathan held his bleeding arm to his chest, trying to fight the urge to cry out.

His father looked at him then back to the servant, "See to my son's wounds, and then escort him to bed. And be sure that Ilene is gone before I come back." He walked past the servant quickly, slamming the door on his way out.

* * *

**AN: Hey guys, glad you didn't give up on me! The end of summer and the beginning of school was just insane and I had minor writers block. I couldn't figure out how to do the ending of this chapter. As you can read, I finally got it done. I did however, in my absence, write a short story called "Lucy" that has nothing to do with the MI but I'm really proud of. If you want to read it, go to and search for v_writes. Its my one and only story there so far. Also follow my twitter, link is on my profile, and you will have updates on Hand of Sorrow and future stories I will write. Lastly, reviews make my heart smile :)**


	6. All I Need

**AN: So this is the same last chapter that you read, only this one has been fixed by my editor, Aubrey. She edited it a long time ago but I was remembering how I abandoned this fanfiction, and I thought I'd treat you to a pretty chapter. I am going to write Chapter 7 today and hopefully I'll be up tomorrow. Since Chapter 8 is prewritten, it'll be up next Saturday. Consider this fanfiction unabandoned.**

**Disclaimer: Jonathan is Jace and "His Father" is Valentine but neither of them are mine.**

Jonathan stroked the piece of wood with such tenderness that seemed to be absent from his life. Since the day his father destroyed Ilene's gift, he has tried to make a duplicate. It was a lost cause. Jonathan wasn't as artistically skilled as Ilene and for weeks, his mini Shadowhunter looked more like a deformed ape.

Whenever his father was away, which seemed to be more often, Jonathan would take out the piece and carve at it with a kitchen knife, trying to make features that he knew he could never construct.

Today he had the toy out in the open while his father was home. Part of him wanted to get caught so the thing would be destroyed like the first. Another part wanted to get caught so his father would give him attention. Anger and pain was better than the agonizing separation from his father's train of thought.

But Jonathan wasn't stupid. He put the toy into a black sock and tucked it in between his mattresses.

"Jonathan," he father called. For a split second, terror rose in Jonathan, in fear that his secret was exposed. Yet there was no one at the door. The call was from the other room. Quickly he got to his feet and walked to his father's location.

Instead of waiting at the doorway, Jonathan walked into the library knowing his father would yell if he didn't. A sharp pain of the memory of that beating, the fury in his father's eyes, the ache from the formed bruises; but worst, the fact he had let his father down.

His father sat by the window looking tranquil. This was a good sign, Jonathan thought. At least he's not drinking…or throwing things.

"Ah my boy, come sit with me." He said patting the sitting area next to him. Jonathan went and sat next to him, fidgeting slightly as an everlasting silence seemed to form.

"Have I told you the story of the Shadowhunter and the Dragon?" He asked.

The boy shook his head**.** "No, Father."

"Well once there was a Shadowhunter. He was one of the bravest, strongest, and most charming. However his charm didn't work on the woman he was in love with, nor did his bravery. He had known her since they were young children but in all that time, he never talked to her. He feared rejection. Love was his Achilles Heel."

"Achilles Heel?" Jonathan asked, not recalling the term before.

"His weakness. Whenever he was around her, he was no longer the greatest Shadowhunter. He was mundane. He doubted his talents, his charm, everything. One day, while thinking about how much time he wasted waiting, he went to her.

"'I am the greatest Shadowhunter, and you should be with me,' he said. The woman was startled by his abrupt declaration of love that was unrequited. 'If you are such a great Shadowhunter, go bring me the head of a dragon and I'm yours.' She figured this was a good way to free herself of her admirer. No sane person would dare look for a dragon let alone kill it singlehandedly. She believed this would be the last time she would see him.

"The Shadowhunter didn't stop there. His love blinded his sanity and his young urge to fight only added on more to his naive nature. He asked around until someone reported a small town harassed by a dragon. The town had been destroyed, everyone killed. The dragon remained to absorb the death that lingered there.

"The Shadowhunter traveled for days until he reached the outskirts of the town. He suddenly grew weak. He began to doubt his abilities and began asking what if. What if his sword didn't work? What if the dragon blew fire or was huge like the ancient fables? What if he died? What if he never saw his love again?

"He retreated from the town, sick to his stomach of the outcomes. He went to the nearest place he could find someone. He planned to write a letter to his love saying he couldn't go into battle and he was leaving. The nearest place was an old shop that looked like it should be abandoned. Nonetheless there was an old man watering a small rose bush that was misplaced in the scene. The old man asked about his journey.

"Once the Shadowhunterwas through with his tale, the old man clapped his hands excitedly. 'Oh! I know exactly what you need,' he exclaimed and went inside for a moment**,** leaving the Shadowhunter confused. When he returned he was carrying a box. The box was only the size of a hand but it was beautiful. Imbedded into the dark lead were swirling patterns of gems, rubies, and diamonds, making the box look as though the value was quite high.

"'This box is a magical box. It was crafted by a great warlock. You can lock all your doubts away by putting in an item of your own. All your fears, worries, pain will be gone. And you can fight the dragon and claim your lover!' The old man squealed in delight. The Shadowhunter took the box, thanked the man, and took off his family ring and tenderly placed it inside. He closed it, and he didn't feel any different.

"He then thought of killing the dragon, and he knew without a doubt that he could accomplish such a simple task as that. He went to the city with the box in his bag, feeling more confident than ever. He found the dragon and killed it. Simple. He didn't even break a sweat. He knew he would make the kill and he did. He sliced the head from the body and traveled back home.

"He tossed the dragon's head at his love's door and said 'I traveled far and found a dragon. I killed it with my sword and my sword alone. Now I'm here to claim your love I've fought so hard to get. Will you be mine?' The woman was astonished that someone had risked their life for her. That someone was willing to die just to be with her forever. 'Yes!' she said suddenly seeing the Shadowhunter with new eyes.

"The Shadowhunter and the woman were together forever. The Shadowhunter was thankful for the box so he passed it down to his son**, **telling him his story. He also told him to tell his story and give the box to his son to which the story and the box were to be passed down to his son and so on and so on…

Jonathan's father stopped talking and pulled out a wrapped gift from behind him. "My son, I felt so," he paused searching for the right word, "mortified that I missed your past birthday. So this is for you." He handed the gift to the boy.

Jonathan unwrapped it carefully, revealing a box like the one in the story. "The Shadowhunter was-"

"Your great great great great grandfather, yes."

"Oh" was all he could say.

"Now if you ever feel scared or doubt yourself in any way, put something in the box and all your worries will vanish."

"Thank you, Father," Jonathan said then went and leaned over to give his father a hug, which was returned lovingly. The boy pulled away with a bright smile and his father laughed ruffling his blonde hair gently.

This was his father. The one he knew and loved. The man that had hurt him was not his father, but a mean man with his father's face. A mean man that emerged whenever his father had too much to drink or when he came back from his "business" trips.

Jonathan resisted saying "Glad your back" knowing that a reminder of his father's trip might spark anger.

"Since you are turning five in a few months, what would you like to do on your birthday? You can do or have anything you want."

Jonathan thought long and hard before giving his reply. "I want to take a bath is spaghetti."

His father looked confused for a moment and then decided not to question his son's wishes. "That's fine. One spaghetti bath you shall get."

Jonathan nodded trying to seem serious, but on the inside, he was beaming.

**AN: I know. Another author's note! Well I wanted to explain why I wrote this chapter. To me, Valentine is not a bad father. He has temper problems but that doesn't make him hate Jace. He loves Jace just as if he were his own son. As you read in the second chapter, he wants to be with Jace more than Jonathan but at this time in the story, he is realizing that Jace will never be the warrior he wants him to be. He is too loving. So Valentine is away with the real Jonathan leaving Jace alone with the servants. But Valentine doesn't love his real son, since he is part demon, so he is very angry when he comes home to Jace, hence the temper tantrums. I don't know if that message was clear in this chapter so that's why this author's note is here. I also don't like writing about child abuse every chapter so this was a little fluff since the next chapters are more depressing except the spaghetti birthday.**

**-V**


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